


Closed Doors

by becausenobreeches (crucibulis)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crucibulis/pseuds/becausenobreeches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tumblr request to see the Inquisitor defending his relationship with Dorian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closed Doors

Dorian’s mission to get on the cooking staff’s good side was finally starting to show results. He’d taken it upon himself to procure some seasonings and spices, and perhaps with a few more visits, he might see them actually put to the use for which he had intended them. The head chef was slowly warming up to him, once she had been convinced he wasn’t going to use blood magic on her turnips.

Making his way back up the stairs that led to Josephine’s office, Dorian froze mid-step at the sound of an all too-familiar voice.

“Well it’s really none of your business, is it?” he heard Maxwell snap at someone, voice a little higher pitched than normal in his incredulous agitation.

Dorian quietly snuck closer to the closed wooden door, leaning in as he heard Lady Josephine’s calm, placating tones. “Your Worship, I’m sure that what the arl meant, was–”

“No, no. I know exactly what he meant,” Maxwell sneered. “So let me just explain something to _you.”_

Dorian’s raised his eyebrows and pictured the scene. Some poor noble trying to keep a straight face while getting skewered by some uppity mage (the noble’s assumed opinion of course, not Dorian’s), all while Josephine alternated between _not_ giving Maxwell murderous looks and _not_ wringing her hands.

“They didn’t make me the Inquisitor because I was some sort of pious saint. And I don’t expect the people under me to be saints either.” Dorian smiled. If Maxwell was aware of the innuendo he’d just made, his tone did nothing to belie it.

“They made me the Inquisitor because I am good at what the job requires. Because I’m good at leading people, killing people, and having the discernment to choose between the two at any given moment.” Dorian’s jaw dropped at that not-so-thinly-veiled threat. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you talk about Dorian that way – and yes, he does have a name – not only as his paramour, but also as his superior.”

Dorian felt his blood pressure spike as he heard his name. This outburst was about _him?_ His skin went a little numb as he stood there and let the words wash over him. _His paramour. He has a name._

“I don’t care what it is you have to offer the Inquisition,” Maxwell said and Dorian could practically hear him grinding his teeth. “If you cannot extend the respect you have for it’s power to it’s individual members, then _we do not need you.”_

Then came the nobleman’s voice, cautious, but a little caustic too.  “Your Worship, I certainly did not intend to–”

“Save it,” Maxwell cut him off. “You’re not apologizing because you’re sorry.”

“Inquisitor!” Josephine called helplessly as Maxwell came right through the door that Dorian was standing behind, and then slammed it before he slammed right into Dorian.

“Shit!” Maxwell turned the word into a hissing whisper before it could become a shout, as he steadied himself against Dorian to keep them both from toppling over. “What are you doing down here?”

“Oh, you know,” Dorian said cheerily. “I thought I’d go swimming in that sea of gold you so quaintly call a vault.” Maxwell snorted at him, but looked a little too lost in thought to come up with a response.

“We’re not at war with anyone now, are we?” Dorian half-joked. Could he really allow the Inquisitor to start breaking alliances on his account?

“Heard that did you?” Maxwell groaned. “No, just some minor noble… I need a drink,” he sighed, and headed down the stairs. He didn’t get very far before he stopped in front of Dorian, almost causing them to collide again. “Although…” he said looking over his shoulder. “I’m afraid our supply line of Fereldan beer may have just run dry,” he winced.

Dorian winced too, but then just gave him a warm laugh. “Oh, amatus, you foolish man,” he said fondly, and then grabbed his shirt to pull him in for a grateful kiss. Maxwell eagerly returned it, seeming happy to accept his punishment.

When he finally ran out of air, Dorian pulled away with a thoughtful look. “Do you think it’s too late to go up there and make amends?”

“Dorian!” the Inquisitor laughed his chastisement, and then took him by the hand to lead him towards the cellar.

**Author's Note:**

> http://becausenobreeches.tumblr.com/


End file.
